Conquer
by bonniebonbon
Summary: "This is not a story about war. It is a story of love, and this is not the ending." On Tuesday, November 24, 2023, the Third Wizarding War begins. Harry and Ginny, Draco and Astoria, Ron and Hermione, Dennis Creevey and more struggle to find out which one is stronger - love or fear?


Tuesday, March 24, 2023.

The day the war begins – again.

:-:

Hermione was making breakfast when her husband called down to her.

"Hermione!"

"Yeah?" She quickly dried her hands on the dishtowel hanging on the handle of the stove.

"I-I've got to go somewhere," Ron said strangely.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Is there something wrong?" she asked. She suddenly was worried and stopped chopping up the tomatoes. "Are you okay, Ron?"

"I'm so sorry," came the reply after a moment of hesitation. Hermione could hear his voice shaking, and it suddenly came to her what he was about to do. She dropped her knife on the ground and began to run up the stairs, two steps at a time.

_Crack!_

"_No!" _Hermione cried out. She reached the office just in time to see a head of bright red hair vanish from the sunlit room.

:-:

"Don't you dare, Potter."

Ginny, wearing nothing more than a silver nightgown, blocked the path from the hallway to the door, her wand tightly held in her shaking hand. Her arm was outstretched in front of her, and her wand was pointing at him – Harry froze.

"Ginny? What are you doing?" he asked tentatively.

"Don't you _dare_, Potter," Ginny hissed again. "I'm not stupid you know. All these years and you still assume that I'm dumber than you, Mr. Harry _bloody_ Potter. I know what you're going to do."

"I'm just going for a walk–"

"Cut the bullshit, Harry," Ginny spat. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Harry insisted.

"Then where are you going?"

"To go get us breakfast–"

"Liar! You said that you were going for a walk!"Ginny screamed. She began to swat Harry on the arm.

"Ginny – ow! - please – I'll come back – I promise-"

"What if you don't?!" Ginny shrieked. "What if you die? What about me?! Are you so insensitive and _selfish _to forget about your wife who loves and _cares _about you? Your friends? Your _children?!" _She dropped her wand on the ground and began to sob against the wall.

Harry, surprised by Ginny's change of mood, knelt down beside her and grabbed her hand. Glad that she didn't push his hand away, he waited for her sobs to become just tears, and her tears to turn into merely red blotches on her skin before he began to speak. "I have to do this, Ginny. I have to help. I'm the Boy who Lived – a war hero, a beacon of hope," he assured gently. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and squeezed his wife's hand.

Ginny sniffled. "Arrogant much?" Harry laughed softly – he was glad that she wasn't mad at him anymore.

"Albus, James and Lily are fighting, Gin." He prepared himself for a tantrum, but it never came.

"They're so brave," Ginny whispered. "They really are your children."

"No," Harry corrected, "they're _our _children." He stood up and helped Ginny up, too. She leaned into his chest and squeezed his torso.

"Don't go," she said again.

"I have to," Harry asserted.

Ginny leaned back and wiped her eyes. "Then I'm coming, too," she said defiantly.

Harry looked aghast. "No! No Ginny, I have to do this – you don't."

"Oh for Merlin's sake Harry, there's no stupid prophecy anymore. I'm coming." She put a finger to his lips before he could open his mouth to argue.

"Together…or not at all."

:-:

"_What an idiot!"_

Hermione rubbed her eyes hastily and wiped her nose before taking a seat in Ron's desk chair. She quickly noticed an envelope lying underneath the morning's Daily Prophet on the desk and picked it up.

_Dear Hermione, _

_I know you're mad - and you've got every right to be mad - but I just have to do this. Remember the war? Remember how we were only 17? It's at Hogwarts, Hermione. Hogwarts – where Rose and Hugo and everyone else is. I've got to help. I know, I know, I'm getting old, but don't worry I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. _

_P.S. You can set my pillow and blanket on the couch._

_P.P.S. Don't worry about me. _

_P. P. P. S. Don't come, Hermione. I can't lose you. Please. I'll be back soon. _

_P. P. P. P. S. I love you._

"What an idiot," Hermione repeated under her breath. She smiled slightly as she set the letter back down, tied her hair into a messy bun and grabbed her wand from the nightstand in their bedroom next door. She walked back to the office, closed her eyes, and Disapparated from the room.

:-:

"Draco, where are you going?"

A tall brunette woman climbed down the stairs and grabbed her husband's arm. "Don't tell me you're going to go fight."

A man with white-blond hair spun around. His eyes were stormy grey, and as cold as ice. "I'm going to go fight," he said bluntly.

"But darling, you can't!" Astoria exclaimed. She brushed her husband's hair out of his eyes. "What if you get hurt?" she muttered.

"I'm sure you and Scorpius will do fine without me," he answered, turning away. He walked towards the door.

"Draco!"

"What is it?"

Astoria walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. "You know that's not true. Please, it is my greatest fear that you leave me and Scorpius."

He avoided looking in her eyes. "I need to do this, Astoria. I've got to show Potter – Potter and everyone else – that I've changed."

"They already know," Astoria said exasperatedly for the millionth time. She rolled her eyes and smiled when Draco chuckled softly.

"I love you," Draco said quietly. He kissed her forehead and smiled.

"I love you, too," Astoria replied as Draco stepped outside. He had turned the corner when Astoria suddenly cried something out.

"Wait!"

He spun around. "Yes?"

"You'll be back right?"

"Of course, darling. Always," he answered, smirking. She leaned against the door grinning ear-to-ear and watched him walk until he finally disappeared.

:-:

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"A 'thank you' would be nice, Ron!"

"What? Oh sorry, alright, _thank you _for totally ignoring my orders and coming here!"

"Your _orders? _Since when did you make orders?"

"Since today, but apparently not seeing as you _came here anyway!"_

Ron and Hermione dueled two neo-Death Eaters as they bickered. "Watch out!" Ron cried out when a bright blue spell came at Hermione. She ducked and shot a spell herself – it was a success, and managed to tie down one of the opponents.

"If I didn't come, you'd be dead by now! You wouldn't have stood a chance against five of them!" Hermione continued. Her voice felt hoarse from yelling – the spells and explosions near them were very loud, and she had to scream so Ron could hear her.

"I'm kind of wishing I was dead right now!" Ron shouted back. He shot a bright yellow spell at the last neo-Death Eater and knocked him out. "Yeah, that's what you get for messing with Ron Weasley. Auror of Division 4 at your service," he spat at the unconscious masked man.

Turning back to Hermione, he scowled. "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"I can fight too, Ronald! I'm perfectly capable of it!"

"I know that, Hermione! Blimey, I've known you ever since we were little midgets! I've been married to you for over 15 years! I know full well that you can be scary."

"Thanks, Ron."

"But Hermione, remember at Malfoy Manor? I couldn't stand that. I felt so helpless. I-I don't want that to happen again." Ron looked around the Hogwarts courtyard and watched students shoot spells at their challengers and dodge when they came their way. He was reminded of the war way back in '98, and looked back at his wife.

"Please, Hermione. Go home," Ron begged. He hugged her tightly and brushed off dust from her ripped-up jean jacket.

"No, Ron," Hermione replied. "If I die, or if you die, I'd rather be by your side."

:-:

"_…and the new, revamped version of Lord Voldemort's 'Death Eaters' are now attacking Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and…"_

_"…this time, they're led by a man who calls himself King Valens, Valens meaning 'strong' and 'powerful'…"_

_"…people are wondering if this man has any relation to Lord Voldemort…"_

_"…claims say that he wants control over the castle and the Elder Wand, which lies in Albus Dumbledore's tomb…"_

_ "…a man hungry for power, said Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt yesterday evening…"_

Dennis Creevey shut off his radio and threw the rest of his breakfast into the garbage bin. After grabbing his wand, his D.A. coin he had kept all these years, and a picture of his brother Colin, he scurried out the door and locked it (the muggle way, so his neighbours wouldn't be suspicious). He walked down the street and into a dark alleyway where no one was looking.

"This one's for you, Colin," he whispered, staring at the old photograph. He had to admit–he was terrified. Wars were scary, and he had been haunted by the war for many years ever since he'd seen his dead brother's vacant stare. Nevertheless, he shoved the photograph of Colin back into his pocket, kissed his coin for good luck, and Disapparated away, the image of Hogwarts – of _home _– in his mind.

:-:

"You can't, Neville. The baby – I can't raise him on my own. And to grow up without a father is just awful, believe me."

"But I can't just _not _fight, Hannah! I have to do this!" Neville whispered, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. "Please, Hannah."

"I'm sorry, I'm not letting you go out there and get yourself killed! I'm not strong like you! I can't raise him on my own."

Neville sighed and let go of his wife's hand, instead moving it up and rubbing her enlarged stomach gently. "Of course you can, Hannah."

"No, Neville, I can't," Hannah pleaded. "Don't leave me. Not again."

Neville froze. "Again?"

"The day of our wedding, you ran away and had a few drinks. Harry and Ron had to persuade you to come back." Hannah continued before Neville could interrupt. "Yeah, I knew. I could smell the Firewhiskey in your breath."

Neville looked at the ground in shame. "I'm so sorry, Hannah."

"It was twelve years ago, Nev, I got over it. But please–don't fight." Hannah put her hand on his chin and tilted his head up. "I'm begging you_," _she whispered.

Neville swallowed. As hard as it was for him not to go running out there with his wand stretched out in front of him, he knew that he couldn't. He kissed his wife on the cheek and made his way upstairs, spending the rest of the day neatening up his study over and over again just to keep himself busy.

:-:

"'Morning."

Angelina rubbed her eyes and opened them slowly. "Hey," she croaked. She checked the clock on her nightstand. "Blimey, George, why'd you wake me up so early?"

"I'm going," George said casually as he pulled on his socks.

Angelina's smile faded. "What?"

"Fred would want me to go. Most of the family's going, anyway."

Angelina struggled to speak but no words would come out. Her fiancée left her room and she got off the bed and hurried after him.

"George!" she blurted out. He looked back, his eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?"

She wanted to say so many things. _Don't go_ or _What if you get killed? _She couldn't help but think that Fred was _dead _and George really didn't have to do things just because Fred would want him wanted to scream. _Don't you care about me? What will happen to us if you die? _

She decided to do something else, though.

"Wait a second," Angelina said. She ran to their room and undressed quickly. She pulled on her ripped-up jeans and one of George's old t-shirts. She splashed some water on her face and tied her hair into a messy bun.

After grabbing her coat, she ran back to her confused to-be-husband and smirked. "You really think you're going alone?"

George opened his mouth to argue but soon closed it. He smirked back and grabbed Angelina's hand. "For Fred," he said softly as he got ready to Apparate to Hogs Head. The tunnel from Aberforth's pub to the Room of Requirement from over 20 years ago was still there.

"For Fred," Angelina repeated.

:-:

"Lily sent me an owl, she wants us to come fight."

"That's cute," Victoire said half-heartedly as she signed some papers for her work. "Listen Teddy, do you think it's safe to go to work and hand these in? They're for this really important case I'm working on."

"Definitely not," Teddy said. He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. "Listen, Vicky–"

"Don't call me that," Victoire interrupted.

"Sorry!" Teddy said. He put his hands up defensively in the air. Victoire rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, listen gorgeous."

"Better."

"I think I'm going to go."

Victoire put down her pen and looked at Teddy with wide eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nah. Besides, my parents fought in the war."

"Your parents _died_!" Victore exclaimed. She clamped her hand over her mouth.

"It's okay–"

"I'm so sorry, Teddy, I don't know why I said that–"

"Because it was true–"

"But still!"

The couple fell silent, and Teddy took a sip from Victoire's coffee cup. He drained it all down before suddenly standing up.

"I'm going," he announced. He took a quick glance at Victoire before walking towards the door. He really didn't need to walk out to Apparate, but he wanted some fresh air before he left. "You coming?" he asked. His hand was on the rusty doorknob of the door.

Victoire swallowed. Unlike Teddy, she wasn't brave. She was sort into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, and when her father had a heart attack she burst into tears and felt helpless.

Yet, she felt brave now. She had to. She had to prove to Teddy–to the world–that Victoire Weasley could fight for her family and friends and for what she thought right.

"Yeah," Victoire smiled timidly. Teddy grinned back, and Victoire realized, with more assurance, that with Teddy at her side, nothing could hurt her.

Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley–invincible.

:-:

What happened to them all? Did they live? Did they die? Did they conquer, or were they defeated?

I suppose that they do live. Everyone always lives. They live in hearts and souls of friends and families; in marks and footsteps they leave on the Earth's surface. Their lipstick stains on the pillow screams, "I am here, and always will be," and their photographs remind us that they're part of history and will never be forgotten.

Do they die? Sure. Some are murdered, some are tortured and some are already dead. It's called war. Are they defeated? Perhaps, but how would I know? I am merely a writer, someone who creates made-up worlds in her head and kills off characters at her will. I do not know a thing about war, but I do know one thing.

They conquer. Oh yes, they _conquer_.

A man once asked me what was stronger –love or fear? I answered fear, but I now realize that I was mistaken.

Love. It's the strongest thing in the world–it binds us together and sets us apart, it makes you do both great things and foolish ones. Teddy and Victoire, Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermione and countless others–they all conquer. But it's not love they conquer, and it's not King Valens, either.

They conquer fear–_for love. _

Conquering love in fear is not nearly as hard.

I'm sure you've loved someone. Stared at the back of his head. Dreamed about her in your sleep. Imagined a conversation you might have with him, or the look on her face when you told her that you never thought you could love someone as much as you loved her. I guarantee that some of you don't love them anymore, because you were too scared to tell them and waited as the days went by for you to suddenly lose interest in them. You love someone, you keep it bottled up inside, and you wait–because you're scared.

Almost everyone's done this. But only some conquer their greatest fears for the ones they love.

This is not a story about war. It is a story of love, and this is not the ending.

Love is never-ending.

Love is forever.


End file.
